


Crush

by scheherazade



Series: Nantoka Daigaku (College AU) [3]
Category: Tenimyu RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: A crush is a harmless thing.





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> just a bit of silly college au fluff. mostly ikkei+hideyan friendship, with yata being yata.

There's something on Hideya's mind.

He's been acting dodgy all weekend, loitering in the common room when Ikkei's making a cup of tea or asking Ikkei's opinion on baseball games when he _knows_ Ikkei doesn't watch sports. It might have been cute, if this was last year and they'd only just met. But it's been half a year since Hideya walked into their shared double and introduced himself with an enthusiastic hello that made Ikkei nearly bury himself under the armful of books he'd been trying to shelve. Finals are right around the corner, and the summer after that. Hideya braved a snowstorm to fetch chicken soup when Ikkei got sick, and Ikkei has found Hideya asleep on the common room couch—curled up around an econ textbook that's a poor substitute for the raggedy teddy bear he hides under his pillow—far too many times for them to be anything but friends.

They'd already decided to live together again next year. There's no reason for Hideya to be tiptoeing around like he's afraid Ikkei's going to bite his head off.

Ikkei wonders if he's in some kind of trouble. But the idea of earnest, hardworking, loved-by-everyone-and-anyone-he's-ever-met Tawada Hideya being in _trouble_ is almost as ridiculous as the idea of Hideya not trusting Ikkei.

The last straw comes when Ikkei pokes his head into their room to ask if Hideya wants any of the ice cream left over from the common room study session—and Hideya slams his laptop lid shut like Ikkei's his _mother_ walking in on him, nosing into his business, and honestly, enough is enough.

The door slams. Ikkei crosses his arms, fixing Hideya with a glare. Or, well. His best attempt at a glare. The wide-eyed look on Hideya's face would have melted pricklier hearts.

But that's a different matter.

"Something's bothering you," Ikkei declares. "And you're going to tell me what it is."

Hideya's eyes go even wider. And, seriously, how does he _do_ that? The guy's as tall as half the basketball team and yet he manages to look as guileless as one of those first-year girls who hang around baseball practice, swooning over Ueda-san or Wada or whoever it is they're into.

Ikkei wouldn't know. He makes a point of avoiding activities that add no value to human existence.

Anyway, Hideya is the one who needs to talk.

Ikkei marches over to sit next to Hideya. Narrowly avoids sitting on a lump in the blankets—which turns out to be the teddy bear, because of course—throws the stuffed animal at his roommate and demands,

"Spill."

"It's nothing." Hideya clutches the bear like that'll shield him. "Really. It's nothing."

"Nice try." Ikkei sits cross-legged so he can face Hideya properly. "You're about the worst liar I know, and that's saying something, considering."

"Considering you know Mario-kun?" Hideya asks, and Ikkei seriously considers grabbing that stupid bear and throwing it at his face. But the thing is as threadbare as they get, and one wrong move might decapitate a beloved childhood friend.

Hideya, Ikkei thinks darkly, has been spending too much time with Yata.

Out loud, he says, "Don't change the topic. Unless what's bothering you is _Kuroba Mario_. Which."

He doesn't even finish the sentence, instead letting the pause speak for itself.

Hideya fidgets. "I'm not. I mean."

"I know it's not about Kuroba. Now will you just tell me what's bothering you?"

"I meant." Hideya glances at him, and there's a little smile on his lips. Ikkei frowns. Hideya smiles down at his teddy bear. "I'm not changing the topic. I was just thinking about Mario-kun because—well."

Ikkei blinks at his roommate. "What," he says, very slowly, "did something happen between you and Kuroba?"

"No! Of course not. I mean." The sound that follows that word is—something resembling a giggle. Ikkei feels his frown deepen. Hideya says, "It's just, you know. I think it's okay if you have a crush on Mario-kun. He is pretty cute."

The frown disappears under a flash of heat that can't be attractive. At least Hideya's still too busy avoiding eye contact to notice. Ikkei turns so they're sitting side by side instead. Maybe if he presses his head against the wall, the heat will dissipate. Or something. Who knows how these things work. He hasn't taken a science class since junior high.

"Yes, well," Ikkei manages with commendable restraint. "Still off topic."

"You're admitting it?"

"Shut up."

Hideya giggles again, and god, Ikkei is going to die of mortification—at the hands of _Tawada Hideya_ , which is just taking absurdity to a whole new level. And then Hideya says,

"I'm not teasing you. Well, not really. It's okay, right? It's like Yata-chan said. A crush is a harmless thing."

 

* * *

 

_Four Months Earlier_  
  


"A crush is a harmless thing," Yata says with the flippant arrogance that's already become his trademark, two and a half months into his college career. "Just because heterocultural media equates interest with intent does not excuse those of us with working brains—"

Ikkei dumps eight dollars fifty-seven cents' worth of flyers into his arms without even listening to the rest of the sentence. Yata Yusuke is many things—and an incisive gender theorist might even be one of them—but, honestly, Ikkei has already heard it all in the two months they've known each other.

"Put these up in the student center and dining hall." Ikkei adds a stapler and roll of scotch tape to Yata's armful. "And any common room that'll let you in."

"Oh, they will."

Ikkei opens his mouth to ask—and thinks better of it. Yata gives him a smirk like he knows exactly what Ikkei was going to ask. Ikkei scowls and points in the direction of the dining hall. "Just get on with it."

"You got it, comrade." Yata somehow manages to throw a salute, despite all the things he's carrying. "For the glorious revolution."

"I'll revolutionize _you_ ," Ikkei mutters, but Yata has already sauntered out of earshot. Not that Yata would've cared, except to maybe point out the hermeneutical fallacy in Ikkei's egotistical thinking.

Sometimes, Ikkei really hates Yata and his casual superiority complex.

On the other hand, Ikkei thinks—staring at his own armful of flyers that proclaim, _RAINBOW ALLIANCE: INAUGURAL MEETING_ —there aren't many people willing to sacrifice a beautiful Saturday afternoon to running all over campus, doing what their more offensive classmates might call bitch work.

Yata Yusuke is many things, but Ikkei's bitch isn't one of them. And it makes him vaguely uncomfortable to admit the corollary to that—maybe because he can too easily imagine the way Yata will laugh at him—but the thought has started to creep up on Ikkei, ever since Yata ambushed him at the library and said, with no preamble,

_So, are we reviving the queer agenda or what?_

It's just the way Yata does things, like he's already two steps ahead of you and waiting for you to catch up. Even if he doesn't actually know what he's doing. Even if the whole thing had been your idea to start with.

The worst part is that it _works_. And the moment Ikkei realized that about Yata Yusuke is the same moment whatever crush he'd had—damn hormones and damn people with nice facial features and what is clearly an athlete's build, under the layers of theory of misdirection—abruptly vaporized, along with any illusion of what kind of person his friend really is.

Because that's just the thing, right. Arrogance and misguided feelings and all. Even if it's a risible idea—even if people might laugh at him for it—Ikkei can't help but think that he and Yata are going to be friends for a long, long time.

 

* * *

 

Ikkei gives Hideya a blank look. Hideya returns it with an earnest smile, as if waiting for Ikkei to agree with him. Ikkei says,

"Yata Yusuke is full of shit."

Hideya blinks. The corners of his mouth start to turn down, which—goddammit all. Ikkei says,

"But he is right about some things." A broken clock and all that. "But you know half of what Yata says is stuff he picked up from Nagayama-sensei, right? You should just take a class with him. I think you'd enjoy it."

"I was thinking of doing that next year," Hideya admits, and Ikkei mentally punches the air in victory. About time. Hideya is too smart to be wasting his time in econ and marine biology.

Hideya says, "Nagayama-sensei does seem pretty great."

"He is." Ikkei refrains from adding anything more on the topic. Hideya should form his own opinions—even if Ikkei already knows what the correct opinion is, in this case. "Is that what you were worried about? I already told you the classes aren't as hard as they seem. I know you'll be fine—"

"No, I know. Well." Hideya shrugs a little sheepishly. "I expect I'll have to work really hard. But I'm not worried about that part."

Good, Ikkei thinks and doesn't say out loud. Hideya needs to get some self-confidence, and that can't come from anyone but himself.

"Moriyama-sensei also said I'd probably enjoy Nagayama-sensei's classes." Hideya smiles to himself. Maybe because of something his freshman advisor had told him. "I guess I was being a little obvious."

"Well, you're obviously not going to be an _econ_ major. No offense."

"None taken." Hideya's still smiling to himself like he's got a secret joke. Ikkei wonders what he's thinking about. Especially when Hideya follows that up with, "Did you have a teacher like that, back in high school?"

"Who, Moriyama?"

"Nagayama-sensei."

If he'd had, Ikkei thinks, his life might have been simpler by several orders of magnitude. But there's no point thinking about that now. He says, "No," and, "I've never met anyone like him before."

 

* * *

 

_Two Months Earlier_  
  


Nagayama chuckles as he places the teacup on his desk. "I know it may sound strange to you, but I really do mean it. I'm glad you and Yata-chan seem to be getting along."

Ikkei huffs at the cup of coffee in his own hands. "Yeah, well." There's really no cause to go badmouthing his fellow student—and one that Nagayama had introduced him to—during his professor's office hours. On the other hand, Nagayama was the one who asked about Yata.

In his defense, he'd probably meant, _How's the Rainbow Alliance doing?_ , rather than, _What's the latest borderline offensive thing Yata Yusuke said in one of his off-book theorizing sessions?_

It's about forty minutes and half a cup of coffee too late to be taking any of it back now, though. Ikkei says, "Half the time, I can't tell if we're actually friends. I mean, obviously, I consider him a friend or I wouldn't still be talking to him, after the crap he said about marriage equality. But mostly, I have no idea what's going on in that head of his."

Nagayama makes a humming sound. "I expect everyone has their own way of showing affection. And I don't mean in a romantic way." If his professor notices the way Ikkei flushes at that, he doesn't comment.

Ikkei says, "Might be the same thing, for him."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know if it's because he's—" The word _bisexual_ sticks in his throat, after months of getting snapped at for using the word. He takes a moment to curse Yata Yusuke's name, then says, "Because he identifies as queer or whatever. I don't know if it's because he has options. He just doesn't seem to take anything seriously."

Nagayama gives him a measuring look. "That's a bit of stereotype, don't you think?"

Ikkei blinks. Then feels a flush creep up his neck. "I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't." His professor gives him a quick smile. "And I didn't meant to be harsh. But we all do it sometimes. Being aware of our own biases is important."

Ikkei drinks about his coffee. Nagayama sips his tea. Ikkei glances around the sunny office, and wonders if his professor always imagined himself here. Three of the four walls are dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. By the window are the kettle and porcelain tea set—hideously ornate, which Nagayama fondly laughed off as "A gift from a partner with no taste,"—and beside the tea, a few picture frames.

Ikkei tries to imagine what his own life will look like in twenty, thirty years—and doesn't even know where to start. Or with whom.

"Do you think he's right," Ikkei hears himself ask. "Yata. When he said marriage equality doesn't matter?"

"Is that what Yata said?"

"Yeah. I mean." Ikkei thinks back to their conversation, which had turned into a shouting match, except Yata hadn't raised his voice and Ikkei had stormed out. "He said something like, there's no inherent meaning in the genders of the people involved. Which is stupid, when that's the whole point. That's been the whole basis of discrimination."

"Yes, it is." Nagayama is giving him a faint smile, and Ikkei gets the feeling he's missed a logical step somewhere. "I don't think you and Yata disagree on this."

"Of course we disagree! He doesn't think I have a right to get married—"

"Did he say that?"

"Maybe not in so many words," Ikkei says impatiently, "but just because he's commitment phobic and can pass for whatever he wants to be—he doesn't get what it's like, for us, because he's just like that."

"There are plenty of people like that," Nagayama says. "Many of my colleagues are unmarried. I'm sure you have classmates who are also determined to remain unattached."

"Yeah, but they're _straight_."

"Plenty of straight people get married, too."

"I know. That's not what I meant. I just." But what does he mean, exactly? Ikkei knows he's right, and Yata's wrong, but he can't quite seem to string the argument together. "It reflects badly on the queer community, doesn't it? To be like that?"

"Like Yata?"

"Yes. He's not exactly doing anything to break stereotype."

Nagayama puts down his tea, and for a second Ikkei thinks he's done it—he's gone and offended his professor, the kindest and smartest person he's ever met, all because of a stupid thing that Yata Yusuke said.

But Nagayama gives him a little smile, halfway wry and thoroughly kind.

"I'm going to sound like an old fart saying this, but—things have changed. For the better, I'd like to think. Even just since when I was your age. Back then, it would have been impossible for you or Yata to be having this argument, because we were fighting just to be accepted, never mind what form of acceptance we wanted.

"Visibility matters as much as anything else. The labor and organizing, the changes we've earned and the victories we won—it's all tied together. People need stories. That's really why representation matters. Fear is one dimensional. The Other can only be one dimensional. Humanizing the taboo, stripping away that pretense—it means telling our stories.

"All our stories. Yours and Yata's and anybody else's that you come across." Nagayama nods at the Rainbow Alliance poster he'd tacked to his door, beside a calendar and office hour sign-up sheet. "You're doing a great thing, Ikkei, bringing different people together. Don't be afraid of that difference."

 

* * *

 

Yata is still full of shit, for all that Ikkei's come around to the idea that there are different ways to advance equality.

And maybe equality isn't even the endgame. Maybe it's a different kind of freedom they're after, the kind where no one bats an eye at what they choose to do with their lives, whether that's Yata or Ikkei or even Hideya.

Hideya, who's currently thoughtfully holding a teddy bear, wriggling his socked toes like there's something bubbling in his soul.

Or his sole.

Ikkei mentally smacks himself for even thinking that. That is the last time he's going any more of Yata's stupid drama club improv nights. The jokes just keep getting worse and worse, and it's not even Mokkun's fault, most of the time.

Hideya says, "I'm really glad I came here," with such earnestness that Ikkei almost feels bad for thinking uncharitable thoughts about their classmates. "I mean, I met you and Yata-chan and everyone. Everybody's really great."

"Thank you," Ikkei says, which makes Hideya laugh.

"You're welcome. And you know what I mean."

"I do, and I don't." Ikkei bumps his shoulder. Hideya nudges him back. "You've been acting weird all day. The last time you did that was when you wanted to talk about going for drama club auditions, and for some reason you thought I'd judge you."

"Well, because it was at the same time as Rainbow Alliance! I didn't want to ditch you."

"Hideyan," Ikkei says, "it's fine. Seriously. Anyway, you pointing out that schedule conflict actually helped. There's no point scheduling meetings at the same time half the members were going to be at drama club."

"Well, that's a stereotype."

"No," says Ikkei, grinning, "That's just data."

 

* * *

 

_One Month Earlier_  
  


"Six o'clock," Yata says.

Ikkei pauses in the middle of writing up this week's meeting agenda to give him a blank look. "It's ten past nine. Did you pull another all nighter?"

"I meant your six o'clock." Yata nods at someone over Ikkei's shoulder. "Turn around."

Ikkei turns around. The little basement room in the student center was probably, at some point, a storage closet. Nagayama-sensei has promised to talk to some people about moving them to a better location, but for now, at least, this is their space.

In retrospect, they probably didn't need three beanbag chairs and a bookshelf. But Ikkei figured that if they're going to revive the Rainbow Alliance, they're going to do it right. A lending library, with documentaries and books and novels—because representation matters—is just the beginning. Ikkei has plans.

Plans that Yata Yusuke doesn't seem all that inclined to help out with, as he disappears in the half second it takes Ikkei to look over his shoulder, during which sees no one but the usual suspects—Konishi, Inagaki, plus Hideya talking to Shohei and Isedai—and when he looks back, he's standing alone at the front of the room.

He hears the door shut.

Ikkei turns around again, frowning, because this would be the third time Yata's ditched a meeting, even after Ikkei changed the meeting schedule, and honestly, as co-founder, one has certain responsibilities to—

"Hey," says a voice. "Uh. Hi. This is the Rainbow Alliance meeting, right?"

—and that's definitely not one of the usual suspects.

Inagaki instantaneously unfolds himself from one of the beanbag chairs, and before anyone else has so much as moved, he's offered his hand to the newcomer. "Inagaki Seiya. I don't believe we've met."

"Uh. Kuroba Mario." They shake. Kuroba adds, "Actually, um, I think we're in the same stats class?"

Inagaki blinks. Behind him, Konishi rolls his eyes. "Facial recognition isn't his strong suit," Ikkei hears him stage whisper. "But maybe if you took off your clothes…"

"Play nice," Yata says—half hidden between a beanbag and the bookshelf.

Ikkei kicks the beanbag, which earns him an aggrieved look from Yata. Ikkei points at the whiteboard. "Finish writing up your meeting agenda."

"It's your meeting."

"It's _your_ agenda."

"The agenda is hardly mine alone," Yata says, standing up. "Art belongs to the people."

"Are we talking about the spring musical?" Isedai asks, overhearing just the last part. That gets Konishi and Hideya's attention as well, and even Shohei raises a hand to say, "Hey, Yata, when are you holding auditions?"

"Why? Are you auditioning?"

"Everyone should!" Hideya chimes in. "It's going to be great! Yata-chan has this really cool idea for the show—"

"Spoilers," Yata says, before gesturing for Hideya to continue anyway. "But seeing as we'll all be involved in one way or another."

Ikkei casually drops out of the conversation, falling back to where the newcomer is awkwardly loitering by the door. One has certain responsibilities, as co-founder.

Kuroba gives him a huge smile.

"Hi," he says, and, "Um," because apparently he can't get through a sentence without it, "I hope you don't mind. It sounded really cool, when we were talking about it on your radio show, so I thought I'd drop by."

"Yes, well." Ikkei clears his throat. "Welcome to Rainbow Alliance."

His face feels a little stiff, but he thinks he manages a smile. Kuroba's still beaming at him, at any rate. For whatever reason. Maybe he got hit in the head at practice. Ikkei can't remember if baseball is the one where they wear the helmets.

He glances over his shoulder at the knot of walking stereotypes arguing over musical theater. He turns back to Kuroba with an apologetic shrug. "I'll introduce you to everyone later, when they're done gossipping about drama club."

"Oh yeah. I've heard something about that," Kuroba says, which makes Ikkei's eyebrows shoot up. Kuroba notices, and adds, "From Shohei."

Which, right. Ikkei keeps forgetting that Shohei—in addition to being a staunch ally and amateur drama enthusiast—also plays baseball. And unlike Konishi, who'll name-check Roger Federer in the same breath as Adam Pascal—Shohei doesn't make a big deal of it. Any of it.

And why should it be? That's the whole point.

It's fine, that people like Kuroba Mario can just walk in to a meeting and smile at Ikkei and ask things like,"Yata-san's the drama club president, right?"

"And co-founder of Rainbow Alliance." Ikkei doesn't know why he added that part. Loyalty, maybe. "There's a bit of overlap between our two organizations."

He waits for a reply like, _Well, that makes sense._ Or even a dumb joke, which would be about par for course.

Kuroba says, "Well, now you've got some overlap with the baseball team, too."

Ikkei stares at him.

Kuroba's smile goes a little hesitant. "That is. Um." Ikkei wonders if Kuroba feels as lost as he is right now, having this conversation with the last person he ever expected to be talking to, damn Yata and his meddling.

Kuroba says, "I'd like to be part of the Rainbow Alliance. If you don't mind."

"Of course," Ikkei manages, after just two tries. At least he knows he's smiling properly now, judging by the way Kuroba's expression relaxes into genuine happiness. Strange, that. It's not like Ikkei said anything particularly friendly.

But maybe he can start.

"Come on," Ikkei says, "I'll introduce you to everyone," and privately prays that the lot of them don't end up scaring Mario off.

 

* * *

 

It takes all kinds, Ikkei thinks, watching Hideya tap his fingers to some invisible tune. He does that, when he's nervous, or excited, or just has a musical number stuck in his head.

Ikkei says, "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"What? Drama club?"

"Stereotypes."

"No. I mean." Hideya's smile is more shy than sheepish. "Honestly, I didn't know anything about stereotypes. Growing up—I guess everybody I knew was really nice. Or just didn't know. You're the first person I met who really knew about these things."

"Happy to play the role of your wise yet sassy gay best friend."

"Shut up." Hideya giggles again. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I know. Now will you tell me what's actually bothering you?"

"It's not _bothering_ me, exactly. I mean, I've been thinking about it a lot. And I guess it's kind of obvious." Hideya's nose scrunches a little with how hard he's trying and failing to suppress a silly grin. "It's just a crush. I've, well. I guess I've had crushes on boys before. But I've never really thought about it. Or told anyone."

And it's ridiculous, this look of schoolgirl bashfulness on a six-foot-tall guy who could probably pass for a senior, if he never opened his mouth. As it is, Ikkei feels something strange in his chest.

They've never talked about it. Even though Hideya has been nothing but supportive, and has been to more Rainbow Alliance meetings than even Yata. But for all that, Hideya has never said anything—and Ikkei doesn't really know what to do about his best friend coming out to him, just like that, with no reservation apart from this stupid shyness that would have been more fitting of a couple ten-year-olds giggling over boys.

They really are best friends, Ikkei thinks. And for the first time, he doesn't just think it—he feels it.

After what's probably a beat too long, Ikkei manages to say,

"Please tell me it's not Yata."

"What? No! Of course not! I mean." And dear god, Hideya is actually _blushing_. But before Ikkei can make fun of him for _that_ , Hideya says, "Yata-chan's really nice. But it's. Um."

"He's not your type?"

"I don't have a _type_." Hideya makes a face at him, and now Ikkei has to bite his lip to keep a straight face. "Unless you count attractive people."

"I'll be sure to let Yata know you think he's hideous."

"Don't do that!" Hideya yelps, and Ikkei actually bursts out laughing. Hideya hits him with the teddy bear. "Ugh, you're the worst."

"I'm your best friend and an excellent listener. As well as exceptional gossip." Ikkei nudges him. "So. Who is it? Or are you going to make me guess?"

"We'd be here all night."

"Well, give me a hint then. It's not Yata, so—is it someone in drama club? No? Someone in Rainbow Alliance? No, I would've noticed by now. So that leaves someone in your classes. Though half the school's in Econ 101, and most of them are varsity jocks..."

Hideya flushes at the last bit, which.

"Oh my god," says Ikkei. "You have a crush on a varsity jock!"

"Like you can talk!"

"You said it wasn't Kuroba!"

"It's not!"

"Is it someone on the baseball team?" Ikkei can hear the incredulous laugh in his own voice, especially when Hideya's blush darkens. "Oh my god, Tawada Hideya. You and half the freshman class! I can't believe you!"

"Don't even pretend you don't have a crush on Mario-kun," Hideya says. "You don't get to make fun of me."

"I do not have a crush on Kuroba," Ikkei says with dignity—and Hideya laughs at him. Ikkei hits him with a pillow, which just makes Hideya laugh harder. "Anyway, we're talking about you."

"Fine." The way Hideya says it makes Ikkei look at him suspiciously. "I guess neither of us has a crush on Mario-kun, then."

Ikkei doesn't even take the bait, this time. "Is it Ueda?"

"Ueda-san has a girlfriend."

"It's not like I'm suggesting you _date_ him. It's just a crush."

"A harmless thing," Hideya agrees, and Ikkei rolls his eyes. He tries to remember what else Mario has told him about the members of the baseball team, specifically, who's single, since apparently that matters to Hideya.

"Is it Wada?" Ikkei asks, and Hideya shakes his head. "Well, good, because he's definitely hooking up with at least three different people. You didn't hear it from me. So it's not the captain and it's not the catcher… The tall one—what's his name?"

"Yuu-kun is a beanpole," Hideya says, which makes Ikkei snort. Fair enough.

Though, given that. "So it's someone who's single, built, tall—"

"Where'd you get _tall_ from?"

"You said it's not Yata. Single, tall, built like a gym ad—" Ikkei sits up so fast he nearly elbows Hideya in the face. "You have a crush on _Shohei_?"

Hideya flails at him when Ikkei grabs his hands to keep him from covering his face. "That was a lucky guess!"

" _Shohei_ ," Ikkei practically screeches with laughter. "Oh my god! _That's_ what you're into!"

"I'm not— People are attractive, okay!"

"Oh, no arguments there." Ikkei has to pause to catch his breath. "I mean, who _doesn't_ want a man who could probably wrestle a polar bear and wear its pelt like—"

"Shohei is an environmentalist!"

" _And_ he recycles!"

Ikkei feigns a swoon, and Hideya hits him with the pillow. They're both laughing too hard for it to matter much, honestly, and when Ikkei snatches both pillow and teddy bear away from his roommate, Hideya can't even get a protest out between his giggles.

At some point, Tatsunari knocks on their door to ask if they want any of the ice cream still left in the common room. Ikkei isn't sure how Tatsunari understood a word either of them said, given how hard Hideya's still laughing—face pressed to Ikkei's shoulder—but Tatsunari apparently gets the point.

And maybe that's the whole point, after all. Ikkei ruffles Hideya's hair, and Hideya pulls another face at him. Friends forgive each other, even when they don't really get it, and trust each other regardless.

"So," Hideya says, some time later, "don't think you're getting out of telling me about your crush on Mario-kun."

Or maybe his friends are just terrible people, Ikkei thinks as Hideya dissolves into giggles all over again at the look on his face.

"You've been spending way too much time with Yata," Ikkei mutters.

"Can't help it." Hideya just smiles at him. "You're my best friends."

And—well. Even Ikkei can't argue with that.


End file.
